Dark Light
by Terintwi
Summary: It happens to even the strongest of us, too bad I'm not strong. Gerard Way, Frank Iero.
1. Breaking

It was the lights that woke me up. I rolled over and groaned into the arm of the sofa, looking for some comfort but finding none. The lights flashed by the open window again, I know for certain I never left that window open. All I remember is that I was burning up a temperature when I collapsed on the sofa last night. I wondered for a second who opened the window, then decided it was irrelevant and shifted on the sofa, bringing my knees up and tucking them under my chin with my tattooed fingers wrapped round them.

The cold in the room was somewhat a relief. Last night had been so hot. So hot I had thrown up at the side of the road like a drunk teenager before staggering inside and finding somewhere to crash. The others weren't even back then, naturally. It was only 8 o'clock. Their nights wouldn't of even started, I was sure the club they had told me they were going to didn't open until midnight. Or some other time along those lines. I glanced at the digital clock that sat on a small end-table next to an empty fruit bowl. 02:22.

"Fuck that." I whisper, swinging my legs round and sitting up.

My head is spinning. It's even worse sitting up. I slump back in the sofa, whimpering a little at the pain.

"And fuck this." I groan, rubbing my head.

"Frank?" comes a hoarse voice.

I jump, despite trying to tell myself not to. A light flickers on and I screw up my eyes, hiding from the burning light. My head throbs.

"You okay…?" It's Gerard. He coughs. "Sore throat." he says, I'm unsure if he is actually expecting a response.

I open my right eye first, almost winking at Gerard as I examine him from the sofa. His hair is messy. Really messy. An astray of black hairs, sticking up in odd angles. He doesn't have a top on either, just a pair of grey jeans. His chest looks weird. That's compared to mine, he has no tattoos.

"You look bad, Frank," he says, running a hand through his hair.

"Are you trying to say I'm ugly, bitch?" I croak. God, I do sound bad too.

I stand up and smile as if I am feeling well, then blow my cover by almost tripping over thin air.

Gerard laughs at me, I roll my eyes and sit down next to Gerard, the dizzy feeling taking over. I still feel faint sitting down, but somehow having someone next to me seemed to ease the pain.

"How long you been here?" I yawn, tucking my knees under my chin again as if holding myself together.

"Since about 9," he says, looking at me with bloodshot eyes.

I widen my eyes at him. Did he come back as soon as I did? Did he just leave the others?

"I got worried. Ray told me you were sick and I came back here and sat 'til you woke up." he replies, stifling a yawn.

"You sat awake?" I whisper to him, embarrassed at his attention.

He nodded and bit his lip.

"You're fucking mental," I whisper, resting a hand on his shoulder. "But thanks."

Gerard grins and coughs again, he feels really hot. Way too hot. I hope I'm not contagious, I don't want him ill too. That's the last thing I really want.

Gerard bends forward and coughs loud. He sounds fucked. He can't sing with a sore throat like that. And I bet whatever I have in my jean pocket that I gave him the damned thing too.

I move my hand down onto his bare back and pat it, hoping he's okay. Right now, I can't even focus on how bad I feel myself now.

"Gerard…" I whisper, unable to find my own voice.

He sits back up and looks me right in the eyes, his bloodshot brown eyes staring right through me.

"It's cool Frank, don't even bother. I'm alright. It's you who needs taken care off." He says, his voice cracking half-way through the sentence.

"What do you mea-" before I even finish my sentence Gerard has his arms wrapped round me in a hug. Childish.

Girlish.

Whatever.

I rest my head on his boiling shoulder and let myself enjoy that comfort I was searching for. Gerard is like a furnace, it hurts to be so hot, yet just having Gerard with his arms round me was the glue keeping me together. I don't even feel ill now: at least it's at the back of my mind. The only thing I can think is that me and Gerard are entwined, comforting each other.

"You're honestly my best fucking friend in the whole world, Gerard," I whisper into his shoulder.

I didn't even care that it seemed such a stupid feminine thing to do; hug your friend. Even we needed comforted sometimes.

"Yeah… Yeah, you're the best." his voice cracked and he let out what sounded like a little whimper. "You're the best friend too." He whispered.

I looked up and just caught a tear trickle down his cheek before he wiped it away, his face turning red as he burrowed it into my neck.

I don't say anything.


	2. Scarred

I must of fallen asleep.

I hadn't meant to.

But then I don't mean to do most of the things I do. I just do them.

I was lying on the sofa on my own curled into a ball with a jacket round me like a blanket. That wasn't the first thing I noticed though.

"Gerard?" I croak into darkness. It's only been an hour or so since I was last awake.

There's no reply.

"Gerard?" I say, louder, my throat hurting.

I get up off the sofa and pad across the room to the door which had been left slightly open, the others are still not back, there would have been some sort of sign if they were.

"Gerard?" I call, feeling like I'm repeating myself and at the same time, feeling quite stupid.

Then I heard a little noise from the bathroom, like someone crying.

I panic straight away. Then knock on the door. Once, twice. Then I wait a few seconds before pushing the door open. It isn't locked.

Gerard is sitting with his back against the shower door, his eyes red and puffy and his ankles scratched and bleeding. He lets out a low sob as he clocks me then wipes away a tear that was rolling down his blotchy cheek.

"What did you do?" I ask, shocked at the bleeding scratches on his ankles.

Gerard held up his hands and showed me bloody finger nails, another tear trickled down his cheek and he let out a little whimper.

"Maybe it would help," he spluttered.

I examined the scratches on his ankles then looked straight into his brown bloodshot eyes.

"That wouldn't help. Ever. You could of just told me if you were feeling down instead of fucking up your ankles," I groan, running a cloth under the cold water tap then dabbing at the scratches.

Gerard took a deep breath and didn't say a word as I clean the little scratches, the redness of the scratches fading despite the few droplets of red still oozing from them.

"That's better. Don't do that again, Gee." I say, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Even if it seems stupid, I'm here for you,".

Gerard laughs manically.

"I get that much from you, Frank." He jitters, holding his hands up to his face.

I frown and look at him. He looks broken. Red lines split across his eyes and black hair sticks to his sweaty forehead. I stand up then reach out a hand to him.

"Lets go back through, it's cold in here," I suggest, smiling down at Gerard for a change.

Gerard takes my hand, my tattooed fingers laced between his own pale white ones. He pulls himself up to his full height, shadowing me as usual, but I still lead him back through to the lounge.

I creak the door open then sigh a sigh of relief, the room is still warm and cosy looking even in the dark. I shut the door and take Gerard back to the sofa where I had fallen asleep and sitting down beside him.

"Now can you tell me what's up?" I ask, raising an eyebrow and biting on my lip piercing.

Gerard slumped back in the sofa and folded his arms.

"Amafreek," he mumbles, frowning.

"What?" I ask, just hearing a blur of nonsense as he speaks.

"I. Am. A. Freak." He says slowly, his eyes burning into mine.

I shake my head.

"How?"

He shrugs. Then pulls me into a hug.

"Like I said. I'm a freak. And honey, you're maybe the last hope for me," He whispers into my ear, his lips brushing against my stretched lobes.

I shiver and stay still, unsure of how to react to Gerard's attention.

"You're not a freak. You're my best fucking friend." I tell him, play punching him.

He grins like a cat.

"Yeah. That sure sounds good. Yes, Frank. You're my best fucking friend."

I swallow hard.


End file.
